


snow in the moonlight

by gossamer_fireflies



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: F/F, Getting Together, Post-Canon, picking what parts of the extra content i use the same way Allison picks her clothes, this fic is 80 percent Renison and 20 percent Allison character study bc i love her, which is to say: carefully and with much disdain for the things she does not choose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gossamer_fireflies/pseuds/gossamer_fireflies
Summary: Allison curses, wiping snow off her steadily-dampening sleeve. Over the phone, Renee tinkles a laugh."Are you all right?""Yeah," Allison says. "Hey, Renee? Thanks."I miss you,she means.I wish you were here."Of course."(Or: snowflakes are falling, the rooftops of NYC are filled with light, and Allison walks the streets but still can't seem to move on.)
Relationships: Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	snow in the moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> i read all of aftg in four days back in October and immediately fell in love with these two. This fic has been banging around in my brain for months and i'm so so thrilled i was finally able to finish it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Allison has spent most of her life around plastic people.  _

_ Everyone’s wearing some sort of mask, whether it be constructed of their designer jackets or the thousand-dollar cheekbones they almost destroyed themselves trying to get. She’s gotten very good at identifying them, over the years- picking out just which celebrity in a crowd will make her life hell today.  _

_ (The thing about wearing a mask is that at some point, it becomes part of you, melds to your skin until you believe you are as beautiful as you pretend to be and no one else can compete.)  _

_ She doesn’t delude herself. She knows she’s plastic too; it’s impossible not to be when you’re surrounded by people like her parents. Allison is careful never to let the plastic go too deep, though- she’s covered in a shiny veneer, but there’s still an iron spine underneath. _

_ She doesn’t want to know what would happen if she lost that. _

_ (People talk, of course. The whispers grate against her ears, dozens upon dozens of thinly-veiled comments to her face and behind her back. Allison holds her head up and pretends she can’t hear.)  _

_ The first time Allison meets Renee Walker, slamming into their new dorm room to find the other woman sitting serenely on the couch, all she can think is  _ plastic _. Because Renee smiles almost constantly, and she can calm a room without lifting a finger, and because Allison knows, as soon as she sees her, that there’s something not-quite-right.  _

_ Everyone’s wearing some sort of mask, some part of them they don’t want the world to see. But looking at Renee, Allison sees the faces of every socialite and CEO she’s ever met staring back at her.  _

_ (Renee’s not exactly like them, but she’s close enough for Allison to know to be cautious.)  _

_ Because Allison might cover herself in plastic, but Renee Walker is fake.  _

* * *

The streets of New York City are always busy. Hot dog carts flash their neon signs, stores advertise clothing Allison knows is out of style, and people push and shove to get where they’re going. There’s a certain energy in the air at all times, a certain  _ something’s happening and I need to see it  _ mindset Allison doesn’t think anyone manages to shake off. She’s walked all over the city at this point, and the streets always project bustling crowds no matter how empty they are. 

Allison finds herself walking places a lot these days. 

(On their bi-monthly video calls, Matt jokes about her becoming a real New Yorker and Dan suggests she and Neil start a running club. Renee doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are soft when Allison glances down at her little video square.) 

It’s probably strange, that she would pick up such a walking habit when she’s never liked it before, but there’s something about the energy of the city that calls to Allison. Walking through the streets makes her feel connected to the people on the sidewalk around her, little things like how she and another woman are wearing the same brand of heels or how the kids talking excitedly at the bus stop are discussing a movie Allison saw last week. It’s not much, but it’s something. A connection that her new team can’t seem to give her. 

(Maybe that’s it, then. Maybe everything she’s doing is just a vain attempt to fill the void the Foxes left, and she’ll never truly succeed.) 

She crosses the street and nods at a fruit vendor, the same one she sees almost every day. He puts up a hand in greeting but continues to talk to his customer. Allison climbs the three steps into Bryant Park, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a girl on a skateboard, and wraps her coat tighter around herself. It’s getting colder- people everywhere are pulling out scarves, cups of Starbucks hot chocolate clutched tight in their hands. The stalls and kiosks being erected around the park signal that the winter market will be opening up soon too. 

Allison will go, probably. The market had good art for sale last year. Maybe she’ll even invite a few of her teammates; Thomas is nice and Williams hasn’t made any rude comments. 

(It’s sad that that’s the bar, really, but Allison has put up with enough antagonistic mutters to know that even silence is a good thing.)

And getting to know people is good for her. That’s what Dan’s always saying. 

Cutting through the park and picking up her pace, she dodges a group of six-year-olds chattering madly to their chaperone and digs her keys out of her pocket. She doesn’t really need them- the doorman knows her by now- but it’s good to check they’re there. 

The lobby is warm, yellow-lit and welcoming. The tiny christmas tree in the corner shines brightly. Allison unlocks her mailbox and leafs through the various magazines, smiling at the sight of familiar script on a pale blue envelope. 

Renee’s letters are just like her, calm and friendly and constantly cheerful. Allison skims it as she heats up water for pasta, reading about the kids Renee’s meeting and the lunch she had with an old lady who used to work at the school Renee’s taken over now. 

( _ They’re asking me to teach,  _ Renee had said on one of her rare phone calls. Cell service is unreliable at best, and Allison treasures the few times she can hear the other woman’s voice.  _ The children like me. And they’re short a few people. _

_ Are you going to do it?  _ Allison had said, tapping a fingernail against her coffee table. She already knew the answer.

_ Yes, I think so.) _

Allison writes back, of course. Careful print that her parents had spent hundreds of dollars on teaching her, cream-colored paper she found in a desk drawer. Her stories are less personal than Renee’s, but she doesn’t think Renee minds. 

The water starts to boil and Allison pours the pasta in, watching the bubbles simmer to nothing as she turns down the heat. It’ll need to cook for fifteen minutes, so she opens her computer in the meantime. 

Almost immediately, a Skype invitation from Matt shows up. Allison rolls her eyes- of  _ course  _ they’d be calling right now. It’s probably the only free time Dan’s had all day.

“Hey!” Matt grins as soon as the video connects, smiling face filling up the screen. He’s tucked onto the couch, long legs folded in front of him as Dan leans against his side. “How’ve you been?” 

“Oh, you know. The usual.” Allison waves a hand in the air. “My team is full of assholes, we have a game on Sunday, scarves are coming back in fashion which is good since I look fucking  _ hot _ in them. How’s the sports daycare going, Dan?”

“The kids are  _ fourteen to sixteen,  _ not  _ two,”  _ Dan corrects, but she’s smiling. “And it’s going well. I’ve got a couple problems, but nothing I can’t handle. Oh, and I’m sure you heard Matt won his game last weekend?”

“Right, right. I meant to text and say congrats. Guess this means we’ll be seeing each other in spring championships if my team wins this next game.”

“You will.” Matt says. “You guys are good, even if almost everyone on the team is hugely sexist.” 

Allison snorts. “Not like I’m not used to that.” 

They talk for a few more minutes, just idle remarks and unimportant news, until Allison’s pasta timer goes off. “Shit, that’s me. I’ll text you guys.” 

“Sounds good,” Matt says as Dan calls “We miss you!”. Then the call ends and Allison dumps the pot of water into a colander to strain with what might be a little too much force. 

She loves her friends, she  _ does,  _ but it’s times like these she really hates them. Because they’re all at this perfect place in their lives- Matt is on a pro team and Dan’s coaching high school in Washington, Nicky’s deliriously happy in Germany and Aaron’s getting his doctorate at med school, Neil and Andrew and Kevin are all ridiculously famous and high-profile and miserable in only the most  _ content _ way. Even Renee’s serving in the Peace Corps, off somewhere saving lives. 

And Allison is here, in this stylishly-decorated empty apartment, dragging herself through practices and ignoring the judgemental looks and wishing,  _ wishing  _ that she knew how to be happy. 

“Cut the pity party, Reynolds,” she mutters, pouring a can of tomato sauce into the pot and doing her best Wymack impression. “You’re not helping anyone by standing here moping.”

_ But you’re not helping anyone with what you  _ are  _ doing either,  _ a voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother whispers in her head. Allison huffs.

“Shut up, Vivienne.” 

Surprisingly, it works. Allison dumps her pasta in a bowl, settling down to rewatch the tapes her coach sent her and do her best not to think. 

* * *

_ “Hey.” Renee looks up from her book to where Allison’s leaning against the doorway, eyebrows slightly raised. Allison steps a little closer. “Wanna grab dinner?” She asks. “Dan’s helping Wymack nail down the freshman recruits for next year and I’m hungry as fuck.”  _

_ “Sure.” Renee stands up and sets her book on the table, retrieving a thin sweatshirt from her room. “Where to?” _

_ “The new Indian place,” Allison says. “I need something spicy to deal with this hell of a day.” _

_ “Your English professor again?” Renee asks as they step out into the hallway. Allison nods and moves into the elevator. Then the words catch up to her and she freezes.  _

_ “Wait, how did you know?” _

_ Renee shrugs. “You’ve mentioned him to Dan a couple times. I listen.” She shoots Allison a look out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t talk to me much,” she observes. Allison feigns ignorance. _

_ “Really?” _

_ “I mean, you don’t talk to anyone much, but it’s more noticeable when it’s someone you live with.” _

_ “Hm.” Allison is silent as they exit the building and walk down the hill, cutting through campus on their way to the restaurant. She’s not entirely sure how to respond; saying  _ “sorry, you just remind me of these old rich white people who made me feel like shit in front of a roomful of celebrities- nothing personal, you’re just exceedingly fake”  _ seems a little too harsh, even for Allison.  _

_ “Do you bleach your own hair?” Renee asks abruptly, apparently trying to move past the uncomfortable subject. She gestures towards the braids hanging down Allison’s back, deep black fading to blond halfway down. Allison blinks.  _

_ “Oh. No, they’re extensions. I get them redone every couple months.”  _

_ Renee nods. Allison peers at her, noticing that the roots of Renee’s own hair are peeking through the bright white dye. _

_ “Do you- need help? With your hair?” _

_ “I’m all right,” Renee says with a small smile. “My mother sent me with more bottles of dye. I’ll figure it out.”  _

_ Allison stops in the middle of the path, staring at the other woman. Renee stops too, looking back. _

_ “Yeah,” Allison says, “no.” She pulls out her phone, composing a quick text. “I’m bringing you to my stylist.” _

_ “Sorry?”  _

_ “My friend tried to dye his own hair when we were twelve.” Allison stuffs her phone back in her pocket and continues on towards the restaurant. “It turned, like, some blond-green-brown color. Super gross. He got in so much trouble.” She turns back to give Renee a determined look. “I am  _ not  _ letting that happen to you.” _

_ “Okay,” Renee says three days later, staring at herself in their tiny bathroom mirror. She’s just come back from the salon and taken a shower to get the extra dye off, so her hair is hanging damp around her face, rainbow ends shimmering. “It looks amazing. Thank you, Allison.”  _

_ “Please. I only did it so I wouldn’t have to look at your pitiful attempts at self-dying.” Dan elbows her gently in the stomach. “But you’re welcome.”  _

_ Dan grins and Allison rolls her eyes. “I need to study.”  _

_ She turns away and heads into the kitchen, opening up another bottle of the lemon seltzer Dan’s gotten her hooked on.  _

_ The hiss of the carbon dioxide escaping almost covers Dan’s quiet words, but not quite. Allison shifts a little closer to hear.  _

_ “So. You two are friends now?”  _

_ “I don’t know,” Renee responds. “But this helped. She’s too proud for anything besides just accepting her assistance to work.”  _

_ Allison bristles a little at that, but really, Renee’s not wrong. She  _ is  _ proud- it’s hard not to be, when you’ve been raised around people who’d gladly watch you burn if you showed even the slightest bit of doubt. _

_ “So this was- what? A test?” _

_ “No.” There’s some shifting and Allison imagines Renee taking the towel off from around her shoulders, hanging it back on the bar. “This was a way to try and make her see I’m not going to turn around and stab her in the back.”  _

_ “Hm.” Allison doesn’t need to see Dan’s face to picture her expression; it’s the same half-smile she always has when something intrigues her. Renee gives a small laugh, and, before Allison can shift to her desk, comes out of the bathroom. She glances at Allison and smiles.  _

_ Allison sets her seltzer down and crosses her arms. “We’re not friends,” she says cooly. Then she moves into the living room and sits down on the couch, throwing one word out as she passes the shorter woman.  _

_ “Yet.”  _

* * *

Allison huffs as an opposing striker slams into her, twisting around him and tossing the ball to Michael Bailey, one of their starting strikers. He grabs it and travels up the court, netting another point. It’s only their seventh point of the game and they’re already in the fourth quarter, but Allison takes comfort in the fact that Portland is trailing behind at six. 

When the whistle finally blows, Allison can tell everyone’s exhausted. The entire game had been a struggle- the Portland Kingfishers are  _ good,  _ and the Drifters were only barely able to beat them. 

They limp back into the locker room, degearing with various hisses and groans. Allison is the only woman on her team, so she has a room and showers all to herself. She dresses quickly once she’s out- if she’s the last one to come to debriefing, she’ll have to deal with another week of  _ how long does it take chicks to do their hair, anyway  _ from her teammates. 

“That was fucking terrible,” their coach says bluntly once everyone’s gathered. Murmurs and sounds of annoyance fill the room and he holds up a hand. “Seriously. If we play like that in the spring, we’ll be out the first game.” 

He pulls out a clipboard and Allison shifts a little on her bench. They’re going to be here for a while. 

“Bailey,” he starts. “Three points? What the hell was that? Your season average is  _ eight _ , for fucks sake.”

“Well, there’s not much I can do about it when my defense won’t get me the fucking ball, is there?” Bailey snaps. Allison rolls her eyes. This happens after nearly every game- if Bailey gets any criticism at all, he goes ballistic. Typical white guy. 

“Hey, calm down, Mike,” Henry Thomas, who is quite frankly too nice for his own good and tries to make peace with everyone, reaches a hand out placatingly. Bailey slaps it away. 

_ Oh, that’s symbolic,  _ Allison thinks over the sound of Bailey growling and gesturing toward her. 

“Maybe if Miss Reynolds over there spent less time on her manicure and more time actually paying attention to the game, we’d have done better!”

Allison scoffs. “Please. In order for us to do better, you’d have had to take your head out of your ass. And I think that would hurt, considering how long it’s been stuck down there.”

Someone in her peripheral whispers  _ holy shit.  _ Bailey’s face goes a shade of red Allison has only previously seen in lipstick. 

“ _ Bitch- _ ”

“You know, I’d punch you for that,” Allison interrupts. She doesn't want to know where he was going. “But let's face it, fixing my nails would probably cost more than you’re worth.” 

Bailey opens his mouth again, but another man grabs his arm and pulls him back into his seat. Allison turns to the coach, expecting some sort of _hey, maybe don’t call your teammate a bitch,_ but he’s stone-faced. 

“Sit down, Reynolds,” he says. Allison blinks, forcing her expression into one of boredom. 

As soon as the meeting ends, she’s out of there, grabbing her bag and slamming through the doors. The crowds are almost entirely dispersed by now, but Allison brushes by the last few fans as she takes out her phone and dials Renee’s number on autopilot. 

She only realizes what she’s done once the phone is ringing and goes to hang up when she hears the voice, tinny and small through the shitty phone speakers. 

“Allison?”

“Renee!” Allison brings the phone up to her ear, starting to walk down the street. “I- how do you have cell service?”

“We’re closer to a city right now,” Renee says, in the same calm tone she always,  _ always  _ uses. “Is everything okay?”

“People are assholes,” Allison says bluntly. She can practically hear Renee raise a curious eyebrow. “My team, specifically. They’re assholes.”

“I thought a few of them were nice? Thomas, right?”

“Thomas can’t exactly make up for a team full of sexists and racists. Especially not when one of them’s the fucking  _ coach. _ ”

Renee hums in agreement, then shifts around. Allison hears murmuring on the other end of the line. 

“Is now a bad time?” She asks, because Allison might be pissed right now, but she does  _ not  _ want to be the woman who interrupted Renee from saving five dozen orphans or whatever she’s doing over there. 

“No, no.” There’s more shifting and then Renee’s back on the phone. “I’m here. Would you like to talk about it or should I just tell you about my day?”

Allison blows a long breath out of her mouth, turning the corner onto a more crowded street. “I kinda went off on Bailey earlier, actually. I think I’m all ranted out for right now.”

If she were talking to anyone else, they would snort and say  _ that’s a first.  _ Renee just lets out a small laugh and starts to tell a story about the kids she’s teaching now.

It’s strangely comforting, walking through the city while Renee talks. The other woman’s voice is warm even with so many miles between them, curling around Allison’s ear in a way that feels reminiscent of a soft blanket. Allison doesn’t know how long she listens for, but it’s long enough that the sun is beginning to set and the wind cuts through her leggings. She turns towards home. 

“Anyway, that’s why they’re not allowed to feed the stray dogs anymore,” Renee finishes. “Are you feeling any better?” 

“Much,” Allison says. “Do you have to leave soon?”

“Probably. We’re on a supply run right now, but I should get back before work. And you should eat dinner.”

“True. Renee, I-  _ shit! _ ” 

A snow-covered tree along the sidewalk has suddenly been hit with a gust of wind, scattering ice all over Allison. She curses again, wiping snow off her steadily-dampening sleeve. Over the phone, Renee tinkles a laugh. 

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Allison says. “Hey, Renee? Thanks.” _ I miss you,  _ she means.  _ I wish you were here. _

“Of course. I’m here for you, Allison. You know that.”

“I know,” Allison responds, and thinks, almost without realizing it,  _ That’s about the best I can hope for.  _

* * *

_ “I don’t get it.” Allison glares at Renee’s bloody knuckles, cuts slowly getting covered up by snowy-white bandaging. “Why do you keep doing this?”  _

_ “It helps Andrew,” Renee says, delicately wrapping another one of her fingers. It’s just them in the dorm room right now- Dan disappeared as soon as she ascertained Renee was okay, presumably to avoid this very argument. _

_ (They  _ have _ been having this argument a lot recently.) _

_ “Who cares about the monster? You’re getting  _ hurt,  _ Renee. What do you get out of this besides bruises?” _

_ Renee glances at her calmly. “I need to let out some of my anger.” _

_ “So let it  _ out! _ ” Allison is almost shouting now. “You can feel emotions without  _ hurting _ yourself, Renee, fucking Christ.”  _

_ “Renee Walker doesn’t get angry.” Renee focuses back on her hand. “I decided that a long time ago.” _

_ “Fuck Renee Walker, then,” Allison says viciously. “ _ You  _ need to find another way to let things out. Don’t you ever get tired of being so calm?” _

_ “Don’t you ever get tired of being so  _ angry _ at the world?”  _

_ Allison’s breath catches in her throat. Renee glances up and meets her eyes, normal smile absent in favor of a dark, intense look.  _

_ “I fought too much when I was younger.” She shakes her head. “I’m not letting myself fall down that hole again.” _

_ “Well, I’m not going to pack all my feelings away just because I’ve decided this new version of myself doesn’t get upset.” _

_ “Good.” Hands now firmly bandaged, Renee reaches out to touch Allison’s knee. “You’re confrontational because that’s how you survive. I  _ won’t _ survive if I go back to confrontation.”  _

_ “I know.” Allison traces a circle around Renee’s wrist, just above the bandages. “But there has to be a better way to let your feelings out of the box.” _

_ “This is the best way I’ve found,” Renee lifts one shoulder. “But I can take care of myself. Andrew won’t seriously hurt me.” _

_ “Won’t or can’t?” Allison raises an eyebrow. Renee gives her a smile but doesn’t respond, sitting back on the couch. Allison laughs. “Point taken. Movie?” _

_ “Yeah.” Allison puts in one of her better rom-coms and focuses on the screen as the movie starts up. Twenty minutes in, Renee’s foot bumps her ankle. _

_ “Thank you for worrying, though. I appreciate it.” _

_ Allison rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Trust me. I wasn’t worried.”  _

* * *

She spends Christmas with Dan and Matt and Randy Boyd, in Randy’s warm memento-cluttered house. This has become a tradition for them, in the five years since the girls’ graduation; Dan and Allison don’t have family they can or want to go home to, and Randy has made it very clear her door is always open. 

(Renee was there the first year, when Matt was still in college. She’s been away every Christmas since. No one else seems to feel the cold that filled the empty space where she used to be.)

Still, it’s nice to see her friends again, nice to stay up late talking and head out into the city to look at the sights. Allison has missed them more than she’d like to admit. 

“You know,” Dan starts one night when Matt and Randy have gone to sleep. She’s curled up in an armchair with a mug of tea in her hands, dark skin lit by the flames in the fireplace Randy somehow acquired in New York fucking City. Allison cocks an eyebrow. 

“I get it?” 

Dan laughs, loud and bright. “No,” she says, still chuckling a little. “No, I was just thinking. You know the first time I saw your apartment, I didn’t think it was yours at all?”

“What?” 

“It’s very nice, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not really-  _ you.  _ Remember when we moved into our room freshman year? You spent  _ four hours  _ making sure all the furniture was in the perfect spot.” 

“Yeah.” Allison has had four glasses of wine tonight, so she blames the alcohol when she says, “I guess the new apartment didn’t feel permanent.” 

“But college did?”

“I-”

(And, okay. Allison doesn’t tend to talk about personal shit. So much of her life is already so publicized- she doesn’t need to reveal herself any further. But Dan is one of the best people she knows, and she’s so, so tired.)

“I had a plan in college. Or, a goal, at least.” Allison taps her nails against the arm of the couch she's seated on, being careful not to scratch the fabric. “I was going to make it through all five years, and I was going to prove everyone wrong.” 

“And you  _ did _ prove them wrong,” Dan says. Allison glances up at her. 

“Of course I did. But I don’t think I ever thought about what would happen after that.” 

(She got drafted right after college, to some tiny team in Albany. The NYC Drifters had signed her three years ago, and it had been an uphill battle since then to make first line and gain any sort of respect.)

“Huh.” Dan sets her tea down on the coffee table, folding her hands in front of her. “When I was in high school, I was a bit like that.” 

Allison snorts. “Please. You? I refuse to believe Danielle Leigh Wilds has  _ ever  _ not had a plan.”

This makes Dan crack a smile. “When I was fifteen, I didn’t. All I knew was that I had to get out of my life, and exy was the only way to do it. After I left? I didn’t know what would happen, but I was convinced it would at least be better than  _ that. _ ” She shrugs. “But once I got to college, I refocused. I  _ had  _ to. I had to get the team together, and we had to win. 

“And I did. And  _ we  _ did. And for a second, maybe, I wondered what I was supposed to do now. But you know what?” Dan leans forward, poking Allison’s ankle with her foot. “I figured it out. I wanted to coach, so I set my sights on that. Matt wanted to go pro, so he moved towards that. Renee wanted to help people, so she went into the Peace Corps. And you wanted to play exy.”

Allison nods. Dan doesn’t ask if she still wants to play- that’s obvious to both of them. Allison wouldn’t have spent so long doing this if she didn’t like it, no matter how much she complains about her team.

(She’s not sure if Dan knows  _ why,  _ exactly, she’s kept playing, but Allison can rationalize it internally. Exy was the first thing that helped her push back the plastic, the first thing that helped her be her. She’s not giving that up.) 

“So what?” The words come out harsher than she meant them to, but Dan’s getting dangerously close to something right now, something Allison really should have done a better job of hiding.

“Alli. I know you’ve been aimless lately. Anyone can see it if they know where to look.” 

And there it is. Allison stiffens almost immediately. Dan shakes her head

“That’s not a bad thing,” she says. “But you need something to work towards. Otherwise, you’ll just keep looking behind you.” 

Allison huffs a laugh. “What, you want me to pick up breadmaking or something?”

Dan grins at her suddenly, sharp and excited. “I don’t know. But she said she had an idea for that.”

“Who?”

Standing up and grabbing her mug, Dan shrugs. “Just make sure you’re home at 10 am on Friday, okay?”

“ _ Danielle.”  _

Two days later, Allison is sitting on her couch and trying to read when the doorbell rings. She hadn’t been able to get any information out of Dan  _ or  _ Matt, who was apparently in on the whole thing, and she’s extremely frustrated with this whole thing. Grumbling, she gets up and opens the door.

“Look, I don’t know what fucking theraphy session thing Dan sent you for, but I need to say I’m not-” 

The woman standing outside her door with a suitcase is the  _ last  _ person Allison was expecting. She hasn’t seen Renee in person in four years, and only twice over video. Her hair is longer, roots dark against the dye, but her smile is the same. 

“Renee,” she says. The shorter woman smiles. 

“Surprise?”

* * *

_ Renee comes back into their dorm, carefully hanging her jacket on a hook. Allison gives her a quick once-over. She’s not bleeding anywhere, thank goodness, but there’s a pale bruise on her shoulder that’s sure to turn nasty later. Allison raises an eyebrow as the other woman sits down on the couch beside her.  _

_ “How’s your boyfriend?” _

_ Renee sighs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s not my boyfriend, Allison.” _

_ Allison snorts and highlights another line in her English textbook. “Good, ‘cause I’d be pretty worried if you came back hurt after every date.”  _

_ “Allison.” _

_ “Oh, this is a serious conversation, then.” Allison closes her book and puts it on the floor. “What’s up?” _

_ “Why do people keep saying that Andrew and I are going to date?” _

_ “Renee, you’re the only person outside his demon cousins who can talk to him without getting gutted. Of course people think you’re going to get together.” Allison lifts one shoulder. “Heteronormative bullshit, probably, but so are a lot of people on this team.”  _

_ Renee meets her eyes. “We’re not going to date,” she says calmly. Allison nods.  _

_ “Okay, then.” _

_ “You trust me.” It’s not a question, but Allison nods again anyway. She curls one leg under her and leans her chin on her other knee.  _

_ “I didn’t before. You reminded me too much of people back home, I think. With the whole-” she waves a hand at Renee- “sweet, nice, Christian girl thing. I assumed you were faking.”  _

_ “I am.”  _

_ Allison rolls her eyes, huffing a little. “Obviously. But you genuinely  _ want  _ to be good, Renee. I don’t need to know your whole tragic backstory, okay? I know some, and I know you. That’s enough. That's why I trust you.” _

_ She gives Renee a bright smile. “That’s also why you’re going to help me by stacking any odds I need to win the fifteen different bets the team has going on you two.” _

_ Renee chuckles. “All right.” _

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Allison asks as they walk down the stairs of her apartment building and exit out to the street. “I thought you were still deployed until the spring.” 

“I am,” Renee says. She’s wearing a knitted purple hat she pulled out of her pocket, one that she probably made herself, and it sits a little bit crooked on her head. Allison resists the urge to fix it. “I got a weeklong leave, though. I’ve been visiting Andrew and Kevin and Neil down in Boston but I wanted to come see you before I went back. My return flight is on New Years.” 

New Years. Allison does some quick math- that’s two days away, three if she counts today. Three days and two nights of Renee. 

“I hope it’s okay for me to stay in your guest bedroom,” Renee says. Allison nods. 

“Of course. Not like I was using it.” 

They continue on, talking about everything and nothing at all. Allison is a little bit stunned at how well they fit after all this time; she’d have thought they both would have changed too much, but Renee still seems to know exactly what to say. 

She doesn’t even realize she’s navigated them to Bryant Park until the glowing strings of lights are in front of them. Renee glances around at the tiny stalls. 

“What’s this?”

“The Christmas market,” Allison says. “It opens every year, but the shops are always different. Want to look around? Their hot chocolate is pretty good.”

Allison has come to the holiday shops before- they tend to have beautiful art, and that’s hard to resist- but in the past few trips, it’s always been alone. With Renee, the whole place seems different, glittering and new like the snow dusted across rooftops. 

And like snow melting in NYC, the day goes by ridiculously fast. They get hot chocolates and eat ramen for lunch and Renee buys a bracelet made out of recycled bottles. Allison puts on an improvised show of making snide comments about everyone around them when they’re stuck in a particularly long line that makes Renee punch her arm lightly and pretend she’s not laughing. They look at an abstract sculpture made of chopsticks and take a picture at the photo booth, Allison’s head on top of Renee’s and Allison’s twists hanging around both of their faces. It’s fun, a word that Allison thinks she might have forgotten until now. 

As the sun sets and the lights in each stall go on, Renee taps her arm. “Do you want to try ice skating? The rink looks nice.”

“Sure,” Allison says. She rents two pairs of skates and takes a few experimental steps once she’s laced up. Her ankles wobble a little, but it’s not bad- walking in heels all the time has  _ some  _ advantages. 

They move onto the ice together, and by the time they make one full lap around the rink they’re both skating comfortably. Allison doesn’t know where Renee learned to skate, but she’s been good at it since before they met; the girls decided to go ice skating their first year at Palmetto and the two of them had had to hold Dan up the entire time. 

(Dan had huffed, collapsing in a chair after they were done.  _ I don’t know how on Earth you two are that graceful, but it’s unfair. _ Renee and Allison had exchanged amused looks. Allison remembers it being one of the first times she enjoyed having Renee around.) 

Allison skates forward a little and grabs Renee’s hand, spinning her around. The other woman laughs, sound like bells in the air. She nudges Allison’s shoulder. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” she says. “I missed you.” 

And Allison has been trying to say those words for months,  _ years,  _ probably, but it’s only here that she’s able to. Here, under shimmering lights, standing on glittering ice. Here, with her breath clouding in the air and Renee’s hand still clasped warm in hers. 

“I missed you too.” 

* * *

When Allison was younger- nine, ten, eleven, before she met her grandfather- her parents’ New Year’s Eve party was the brightest night of the holiday season. Christmas was nice, but the dozens of presents under the tree marked  _ Allison  _ couldn’t make up for the fact that she normally spent it with a nanny. New Year’s Eve was a guaranteed free pass to sweets, staying up late, and seeing her parents all in one. Allison thought it was the best holiday ever. 

This New Year’s Eve, though, might surpass those. She and Renee have spent the day at the Met, and now they’ve got the ball drop queued up on TV and a bottle of sparkling cider on the coffee table. 

_ (You should get champagne,  _ Renee had said earlier that morning, when they stood in front of the wine store.  _ I don’t mind.  _

_ No way,  _ Allison had responded, grabbing Renee’s hand and marching them around the block to a grocery store.  _ You deserve something fancy too. And champagne isn’t that good, anyway.)  _

“Have you ever been?” Renee asks, jerking her chin towards the crowded view of Times Square on the television. Allison snorts. 

“To the ball drop? No. It’s supposed to be cold. And dirty. And, like, not worth it at all.” She raises her glass. “This is better.” 

“I agree.” Renee lifts her feet up onto the sofa, toes brushing against Allison’s leg. Allison doesn’t move for a moment, then forces herself to relax. 

There’s exactly one thing that’s changed between the two of them since they last saw each other, and it’s the one thing Allison doesn’t know how to describe. It’s something in the air, hanging heavy on her shoulders and stealing away her breath. Something in her hands, where they tingle whenever Renee touches them. 

(Something in her gut, maybe. Something in her heart.) 

“Hey,” Allison says suddenly, remembering. “Didn’t Dan say you had an idea? For my goals or whatever the fuck that was about?” 

“Oh, right.” Renee takes a long sip of cider. “Dan thinks you need a goal. Something to work toward, she said.”

“You disagree?” Allison guesses. Renee frowns a little. 

“I don’t think you need a  _ goal,  _ per say. But I agree with her that you need to stop thinking about the past.”

Allison snorts. “Funny, that’s pretty much the opposite of what Bee said in our fifth year.” The therapist had told her it was all right to keep thinking about Seth, all right to mourn him. Allison isn’t sure she ever took that to heart. 

Renee raises an eyebrow. “Is it Seth you can’t move past, or just the Foxes in general?”

“I-” Allison shakes her head. “No. I’ve made peace with what happened to Seth. I hate it, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget him, but I’ve come to terms with it.”

“That’s what I thought.” Renee leans forward, putting her hand on Allison’s where it rests on the cushion between them. “You’re doing great with your goals, Allison. All you need is someone to keep you here in the present.” 

“Yeah?” Almost without thinking, Allison leans forward. Renee’s breath brushes her lips. “Who would you suggest I go to for that?”

“A licensed medical professional,” Renee offers with a smile. 

“Hmm.” Allison pretends to consider that for a moment. “No.” 

They lean forward at the same time.

Kissing Renee isn’t like kissing anyone else. Her lips are soft, and when Allison slips her tongue into the other woman’s mouth, she can taste the sweetness of sparkling cider. 

They kiss slowly, carefully, like they have all the time in the world. Allison doesn’t mind; this is just as Renee as every other part of her. 

“Hi,” Renee murmurs, pulling back just the slightest bit so she can talk. Allison smiles. 

“Hi,” she echoes, reaching up a hand to card through Renee’s hair. The strands are silky underneath her fingers. “Did you know you’re beautiful?”

“Yes,” Renee deadpans, adding a tone to her voice that’s obviously meant to be an impression of Allison. They both laugh, and then they’re kissing again. 

The ball drops, at some point. Allison breaks away just long enough to grope wildly for the remote and turn the tv off. Then she’s lost again, in the feel of Renee against her skin and the fabric of the couch cushions behind her. 

(They move to Allison’s bedroom eventually, snatching kisses every few feet. They don’t have sex- neither of them  _ wants  _ to- but it’s enough to just be there, together. Renee smiles against her lips.) 

* * *

Allison wakes up slowly, late-morning light shining through the curtains. For a brief moment, she thinks she feels warm arms around her waist- but it’s just the blankets, tangled around her legs like they are every morning. She’s not sure why that fills her with so much melancholy. 

Wandering into the kitchen, she sees Renee at the table. The woman is writing in the margins of a small book, making notes about whatever she’s reading. She looks up as Allison comes closer. 

“Good morning,” she says with a soft smile. “I made waffles.” 

“Oh, great.” Allison grabs the plate on the counter and drowns the waffles in syrup, cutting them into irregular pieces and shoving them into her mouth. Her head is still achy and she’s a little nauseous from last night, so food is maybe not the best idea, but whatever. She’s hungry. 

“My flight is in four hours,” Renee says quietly. “I should leave soon to have enough time.” 

“Right.” Allison sets down the plate, tapping a fingernail against the porcelain edge. “Renee...” 

She doesn’t know what to say.  _ Thank you  _ doesn’t make any sense,  _ I missed you  _ is too sentimental. Anything with the word  _ love  _ is immediately out the window. God, they didn’t even hook up- one kiss on New Year’s doesn’t mean anything. 

_ Well. It was really more like fifteen kisses, _ Allison corrects herself.  _ But still.  _

“Renee,” she repeats. “I...” 

“It’s all right.” Renee meets her eyes, smiling softly. “I understand.” 

“What? Renee-”

“I should pack.” Standing up, Renee closes her notebook gently and moves towards the spare bedroom. Distantly, Allison remembers her unpacking in there, even though she never slept in that bed. 

“Okay,” Allison says. 

“I’ll be back in the States in April.” Renee smiles as she pulls her coat on, fifteen minutes later. “I’ll see you then.” 

“Yep,” Allison says. With one last, unreadable smile, Renee steps out into the hallway and shuts the door behind her. 

“Goodbye,” she murmurs, sound barely discernible through the wood. 

Allison doesn’t respond.

The rest of the day passes. She’s glad that she doesn’t have practice- she doubts she’d be able to focus. There’s a strange fog over her thoughts, like she’s walking in a dream, walking to somewhere unknown and remembered all at once. 

She checks her phone, fielding the many “Happy New Year!” texts from the Foxes in a way that she hopes makes her sound cheerful. It must work, since no one questions her. 

(Renee doesn’t respond to any of them. Her flight is nine hours long. Allison hates that she knows that.) 

She cooks lunch, then orders dinner from a Thai place down the street. Curry noodles aren’t on her nutrition plan, but she can’t find it in herself to care. 

As the sun sets, she sits on the floor of her small balcony, watching the lights of the city below and absentmindedly scrolling through her photos from the Palmetto years. She stops at a candid of her and Seth, leaning against each other on the bus back from a game. Matt took it, she remembers. His freshman year. 

Seth is looking down at his phone, mouth set into the frown that always adorned his face. Allison is staring out the window, shoulder pressed against his. They’re not holding hands or anything like that, but they are clearly, undeniably, together. 

Allison doesn’t whisper a message to the photo in the dimming light. She doesn’t say  _ I miss you  _ or  _ please come back.  _ She just looks at it, for however long it takes to try and move on.

* * *

_ Allison is not moping. She promises herself this- she’s not moping, she’s not mourning, she’s just… sitting here. On the floor outside her dorm room, staring at the wall.  _

_ She’s done a lot of staring aimlessly at things recently.  _

_ In two weeks, the Fox Tower dorms will close for a month. Allison has already made plans to go to Hawaii for summer break. After that, it’s back to practice, back to school for her last year of college.  _

_ It’s funny. In all her imagined ways her fifth year could go wrong- her parents pulling the plug on all her funds, breaking up with Seth for real- she never, ever imagined she’d be going into it alone.  _

_ Freshman year, the girls were a unit. Dan-Allison-Renee, never seen alone, never not watching each other’s backs. When Allison first entertained the idea of a relationship with Seth, using him as a foothold to latch onto the rest of the team, Dan and Renee were there to figure out a plan. When Matt started sleeping on their couch sophomore year, the three of them had arguments that lasted well through the night. And when the monsters showed up junior year- well.  _ Those  _ arguments weren’t confined to their dorm.  _

_ But throughout it all, throughout all the ups and downs and adding Matt to their group and Seth’s lightswitch antagonism, they stayed together. Dan keeps her eye on the far-away prize of a cohesive team, Allison voices the things no one else is willing to say, and Renee is always there to smooth rough edges and calm them all down. The three of them  _ work, _ however strange that may be.  _

_ Nothing’s changed. And yet everything has.  _

_ The Foxes are a team now. That’s undeniable, and Allison is happy about it; she’d be happy for Dan at the very least, and it’s certainly nice to have less fights breaking out.  _

_ But the Foxes are a team now, and their groups are starting to merge.  _

_ Renee and Andrew have always had some sort of weird symbiotic relationship, but Allison has to admit she didn’t see Matt and Neil’s apparent bromance coming. And Nicky seems determined to pull Aaron and Kevin into social interaction with the rest of the team at any cost.  _

_ (To be quite honest, Allison wouldn’t be too sad if Nicky failed a little bit with that particular quest. Katelyn the Cheerleader seems nice, though.) _

_ In any case. The lines are starting to fade, and Allison doesn’t know where she fits in. Dan and Renee don’t need her anymore, that’s obvious. And Allison will never, ever admit she needs them.  _

_ She stands back up and slips back into the room, heading to her bed on nearly-silent feet. It’s all for naught, though, because Renee is already sitting up. Her hair glows white in the moonlight.  _

_ “Is everything all right?”  _

_ “Yeah.” Allison nods and moves back to her own bed. “Don’t worry.” _

_ Renee mirrors the motion, leaning back down onto her pillow. Allison thinks she’s fallen asleep when the other woman’s voice carries quietly across the room.  _

_ “If you ever need to talk. About Seth, or- anything. I’m here, and so is Bee.”  _

_ “I know.” Allison turns over so she’s not facing Renee. “I don’t need to talk. I just- need to sit. Space. I need space.” _

_ “Okay.”  _

_ This time, Renee does fall asleep. Her breathing evens out and Allison pretends she’s not listening to it, pretends she isn’t counting the exhales and inhales like her life depends on it. _

_ She didn’t need Seth. She doesn’t need Renee. She doesn’t need anyone.  _

_ She tells herself that so much it might even be true. _

* * *

January melts into February melts into March, and the exy season starts up again. Allison’s team flies to Florida for their first game of the championships. They win by five points, but practices kick up a notch after they get back. Allison almost relishes in the way her muscles ache at the end of the day. 

(She’s never understood Kevin and Neil’s obsession. She still doesn’t, really. But being on the court- focusing on exy so much that there’s no room for anything else- is strangely therapeutic.)

Matt texts her one day as she steps into her apartment, grocery bags balanced precariously in her hands.  _ Hey,  _ it says.  _ My team’s coming to town the day before our game. Wanna grab lunch?  _

_ Sure,  _ Allison types, bags sliding up her forearm. A bag of shredded cheese falls out of one and out of the floor. 

She turns on MARINA and starts to put the food away, music blasting from her tiny Bluetooth speaker and filling the kitchen. The lyrics are familiar-  _ Bubblegum Bitch  _ was Allison’s anthem for a while- and they seem to give her a little space to think.

So she does.

Renee left. She kissed Renee, and Renee left. She kissed Renee, and Renee left, and they didn’t talk about it at all. 

And Allison- Allison is okay with that. Renee’s her own fucking person, she can do whatever she wants. And if she doesn’t want to kiss Allison anymore; if that was just a mistake, brought on by the holidays and the euphoria of seeing each other face to face and she never really liked Allison in the first place, then that’s okay. 

Allison will get over it. She always does. 

Life keeps going. 

“Allison!” Matt grabs her into a bone-crushing hug the moment he sees her, lifting her feet a couple inches off the ground. Allison prides herself on being tall- 5 foot 11 is nothing to laugh at- but standing next to Matt would make anyone feel tiny. She can’t even imagine what it’s like for Andrew and Aaron. 

“Hey,” Allison responds once her lungs no longer feel like collapsing. “How’ve you been?”

And like with Renee, it’s easy. Allison and Matt didn’t exactly start out good friends, but once they got over her annoyance at him constantly sleeping on their couch, everything was pretty good. 

They talk about the championships (“We’re going to kick your  _ ass _ , Reynolds.” “Please. Bring it on.”) _ ,  _ about Matt’s new car (“It is beige, Matt.  _ Beige.  _ Who on this hell of a planet decided it was a good idea to let you get a _ beige car? _ ” “Me?”), about Dan (“Believe it or not, I _ do  _ text with your wife regularly. I know how she’s doing.” “Okay, but  _ have you seen this picture- _ ”), about life. They end up walking through Central Park after they eat, dodging the several children’s birthday parties that are set up. 

“Renee came to see you in December, right?” Matt asks. Allison forces herself not to stiffen. 

“Yup. I think she would’ve visited you two too if she had had the time.” 

Matt laughs. “Perils of living in Illinois. No one wants to stop by.” He glances at her. “She’s been sending you letters, though, right?”

Allison nods. She had been surprised when the first one had arrived in late January, but it makes sense- Renee isn’t exactly the type of person to completely cut off contact with her friend just because of one awkward morning. 

(The letters are the same; stories about Renee’s day, accounts of the sunsets she sees. They seem more distant, though, when Allison is hanging desperately tight to each word.)

“I miss her,” Matt says. “I miss Palmetto too. We’re all so-” he gestures with his hands- “spread out now.”

“Yeah.” Allison’s voice lodges in her throat, too many things to say getting tangled up. Matt smiles. 

“It’ll be nice to see everyone for Renee’s welcome party,” he says lightly. “Well, everyone except Nicky, but he’ll be videocalling in from Germany.” 

“Wait.” All the words in Allison’s head fly out, leaving her mind almost completely blank. She stares at Matt. “Welcome party?” 

* * *

_ Allison looks at the sea of faces around her, all clad in neat black robes and those stupid square graduation caps. She doesn’t know most of the students in her area, but a glance backwards shows Dan and Renee sitting near each other in the “W” section.  _

_ The school president- Chaz or Chase or whatever his name is, Allison never bothered to learn it- starts his speech with the words “Esteemed scholars of Palmetto State University”, which immediately makes Allison zone out. She turns around again, watching Dan and Renee until Renee meets her eyes. The woman tilts her head a little, but she smiles when Allison exaggeratedly mimes dying of boredom. She waves her hand, a clear  _ pay attention  _ movement. Allison turns her gaze back to the stage. A small chuckle escapes her lips.  _

_ Finally, after what might as well be seventeen hours of speeches and other shit, the diplomas are handed out. Allison receives hers quickly, settling back in her seat to watch the other girls receive theirs. Dan shakes Chad’s hand firmly, grinning wide as applause starts up. Renee’s smile is smaller, but no less genuine.  _

_ “I wish you all luck on the next stage of your life,” Charon finally says. The entire crowd cheers, caps flying in the air as everything becomes chaos. A hand grab’s Allison’s through the mess of people, and Renee’s standing next to her. _

_ “Congrats,” Allison says. “Are you ready to move on from being an esteemed scholar of Palmetto State University?”  _

_ Renee rolls her eyes. “Yes,” she says, squeezing Allison’s hand. “And you are too.”  _

* * *

“Katelyn, could you grab those balloons?”

The woman in question nods, retrieving the helium-filled balloons and passing them up to where Dan stands on a stepstool. Muttering thanks through the roll of tape in her mouth, Dan holds them up to the wall. Neil shakes his head. 

“A little to the side, maybe?” 

Moving them to the left, Dan attaches them and hops off the stool, looking up at her handiwork. 

“Perfect,” she declares. “What time is it?” 

“Eleven thirty,” Kevin says. He’s seated on the couch next to Andrew, attempting to look at something on his phone. It’s not working very well, mainly because his phone is currently in Andrew’s possession. “She should be here any minute.” 

“Okay, food, balloons, cake,” Matt lists. “Wait. Where’s the cake?” 

“In the kitchen,” Aaron says. “Where you put it. Five minutes ago.” 

“Calm down,” Allison says, grabbing Matt’s elbow as he tries to rush towards the kitchen. “We have everything. And Renee wouldn’t care if we didn’t, anyway.” 

“I know.” Matt deflates a little. “Just-” 

The doorbell rings. 

Allison gets one glimpse of Renee as the door opens, one second of eye contact in which Renee’s smile seems to slip the tiniest bit, one moment where it’s just  _ them  _ before Renee is swamped with friends and the party starts. 

Allison hangs back, for the most part. Chats with Katelyn the (Former) Cheerleader, listens to Nicky rant about life in Germany for a full ten minutes, stands next to Andrew in stony silence until that gets immeasurably boring. She’s always aware of Renee, finds herself watching the other woman out of the corner of her eye whenever she’s in the room. But Renee doesn’t approach her, so Allison doesn’t make contact. 

(Her team lost to Matt’s last month, kicking them out of championships for the season. Allison wishes she cared a little more. Wishes she could think about anything but Renee.) 

Eventually, she escapes to the front steps (she would have tried the backyard, but Neil and Andrew disappeared out there almost an hour ago and she  _ really  _ doesn’t want to disturb them) and sits down, watching the empty path in front of her. Matt and Dan’s house is turned away from the main road, so the front door faces the side of the neighboring house and a cobblestone path leads onto the sidewalk proper. It’s probably annoying normally, but it’s good for Allison. She really doesn’t want to deal with people right now. 

As if some cosmic deity heard her thoughts and decided to make her life worse, she hears the door open behind her. The soft footsteps mark the intruder as Renee. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

_ Yes,  _ Allison thinks.  _ Yes, I will absolutely, totally lose my mind if you sit.  _

“No.” Renee settles herself down on the step and trails a finger along the concrete corner, lightly enough so she won’t scrape. Allison’s stomach clenches, but she needs to say something. “Renee. We should talk.”

“It’s all right,” Renee says, shifting so she can face Allison. “I understand. It was a fluke. You don’t need to explain.” She smiles the saddest smile Allison has ever seen. “I’d rather not get rejected at my own welcome party, if that’s okay with you.” 

“Renee,” Allison says, because the tiny part of her brain that  _ isn’t  _ screaming recognizes that it is a crime to allow Renee Walker to be this fucking sad when she can do something about it. “I wanted to kiss you. I still do.” 

Eyes wide, Renee shakes her head a little. Allison grabs her hand. “I wanted to kiss you,” she repeats. Renee looks away. 

“I wanted to kiss you too,” she says quietly. “But- Allison. I can’t be Seth.” 

“Good!” Allison lets go of her hand and throws her arms up. Renee turns back to face her. “I loved Seth, I did, but I can love other people too.” She lowers her voice a little, trying to push as much sincerity into her words as she can. “I’m not asking you to be as angry as Seth. I’m not asking you to push all your feelings away as Renee. I’m just asking you to be  _ yourself _ .” 

“I-” Renee looks down, reaching out and tangling their fingers together. “I can’t. I don’t know who  _ myself  _ is anymore.” Before Allison can even speak, she glances up again, so close their noses are brushing. “But I think- I could try to make Renee Walker a little better. For you, and for me.”

Allison gives a small nod and tilts her head just a bit to the side. Their mouths slide together again, just as perfectly as they did in Allison’s apartment all those weeks ago. 

“Is,” Allison gasps when they break apart,  “Is it bad I didn’t even know I loved you until you were gone?”

Renee chuckles, eyes bright. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Please,” Allison scoffs. “Like your heart could get any fonder of me.”

“I think it just did.” 

(And, okay, that is a really shitty line. But Allison will be the first to admit it  _ totally  _ worked.) 

Renee pulls her back in, hands on Allison’s cheeks. Allison would be content to stay there forever, but just then Dan makes the decision to open the front door to check on them. 

“Hey, do you guys want more cake- oh.” 

Allison and Renee break apart, grinning at each other. Dan’s smile grows to epic proportions. 

“You know what, come in when you’re ready. Looks like Nicky won the pot,” she calls to the rest of the party, turning back inside. Renee gives Allison an amused look. 

“We should probably go back to the party,” she says. Allison snorts, standing up and holding her hand out. When Renee takes it, she pulls the shorter woman to her feet and presses a short kiss to her lips. 

“I missed you,” Allison says. The words come out more easily than they ever have. Renee smiles. 

“I missed you too.” 

With Renee’s hand clasped tight in hers, Allison moves through the door. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos are love!


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